


Nightingale, Florence Nightingale

by tayryn



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/pseuds/tayryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's feeling under the weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightingale, Florence Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolfsbride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



“Good morning, Tanner,” James said, as he stepped into M’s outer office, then nodded to Moneypenny. “Miss Moneypenny.”

“Good morning, 007,” Eve said with a smile.

“Morning, 007,” Tanner replied. “She’s not in.”

James stopped, his hand on the doorknob of M’s office door. “What do you mean she’s not in? M’s always in.”

“Not today,” Tanner said. “She called in, said she would not be coming in.”

“Why?”

“She’s sick,” the chief of staff answered.

“M? Sick?”

Tanner nodded. “She did not sound well at all.”

James frowned, then without a word, turned and left the office.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Moneypenny’s voice trailed off as she looked over at Tanner.

Tanner did not reply, but as he turned back to his computer, a small smile played over his mouth. 

**~007~007~**

Olivia’s eyes fluttered open at the feeling of a cool hand being pressed against her forehead.

“007, what… what are you doing here?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“Checking up on you, ma’am,” he answered, his hand sliding gently from her forehead to her cheek, then the side of her neck. “You’ve definitely got a fever.”

She glared at him, then groaned when even that simple task made her head ache, and the room spin slightly. She groaned, and curled into an even tighter ball, as her stomach began to roll.

“Is there anything I can do?” James asked in a soft voice.

Even feeling as wretched as she felt, Olivia could not miss the tenderness and concern in his voice, and instead of the sharp, biting retort that was on the tip of her tongue, she found herself replying, “No. It’s just a twenty-four hour bug, James. I will be right as rain tomorrow.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’ll…” her voice trailed off, as she suddenly kicked away her blankets, and scrambled out of the bed; knocking James over in her mad rush to reach her bathroom before she lost the contents of her stomach all over her carpet.

Reaching the toilet just in time, Olivia dropped to her knees, and bent over the ceramic bowl, emptying what little still remained in her stomach out. She groaned, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she continued to heave. She had next to nothing left inside her, having been throwing up all night, but still her body continued to convulse.

When she was certain the wave had passed, she slumped down on the floor, resting her head on her arm against the toilet seat.

Christ she hurt. Every part of her ached from all the vomiting she’d been subjected to the last twelve hours.

She startled when she felt a cool cloth on the back of her neck, then relaxed when she remembered James was there.

“Here,” he said softly, holding out a glass of water.

Olivia took the glass with a small, grateful smile. She took a sip, rinsed her mouth, then spat it into the toilet. She did this several times, her initial embarrassment at doing so in front of her agent having disappeared quickly, then flushed the toilet, and moved to climb to her feet.

Without saying a word, James held his hand out to her. She placed hers in his, and with his other hand on her elbow, then on her waist, he helped her to her feet.

Once on her feet, she swayed slightly.

“Whoa, steady,” he said, and drew her close.

“I’m all right,” she told him, trying to ignore the comforting heat of his body.

“Of course you are,” James remarked. “When was the last time you tried eating?”

“Not since my supper last night,” she answered. She’d gone to bed early, feeling a little under the weather, and then had woken up in the middle of the night sick as a dog. And the thought of eating now, only made her stomach roll again.

“You should try to eat something,” James told her, as he slowly walked her across her room.

Olivia felt her stomach lurch at the mere thought of food. “I don’t think I could.”

“Nothing heavy, just some crackers, and perhaps some ginger tea,” he suggested. “It will help to settle your stomach, or at the very least, give you something to throw up, which is better than just bile, and dry heaving.”

Olivia winced, but knew James was right. “I’ll try,” she acquiesced, as they reached her bed.

“Thank you,” he said, and helped her into the bed, and settled her under the covers. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him leave, still wondering why she hadn’t ordered him out of her house, as she snuggled into her blankets. She wanted to blame it on not feeling well, on her defences being low, but she knew the real reason.

Olivia closed her eyes.

She did not doubt that James cared about her, but she would not go so far as to say he harboured the same feelings for her that she did for him. If she were at least twenty years younger, perhaps they might have stood a chance, but at her age…

Olivia sighed.

Nothing more than foolish dreams of a foolish old woman.

“M?”

Her eyes opened at the soft call of her name to find Bond standing beside the bed, a cup in one hand, several crackers on a napkin in the other.

She sat up slowly, carefully, mindful of her still sensitive tummy, then held her hand out for the tea. She took a small sip, sighing as it soothed her sore throat.

“Do sit down, Bond,” she said quietly but firmly, gesturing to the bed. “I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

He chuckled softly as he perched gingerly on the edge of the mattress next to her hip, then handed her a cracker. “Here.”

Olivia took the cracker, and nibbled on it.

“Not that I’m not grateful, but why are you here, Bond?” she asked in between bites of the cracker.

“I told you, I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried,” he told her, and handed her another cracker.

“Were you now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You never get sick, M,” he said quietly, but there was something in his eyes, something that made Olivia press him again, in spite of the little voice inside her mind, whispering that she was seeing what she wanted to see.

“Is that all, James?”

He sighed, and shook his head.

She placed her teacup on her night table, then looked back at him. “Why?”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I--” she hummed softly when his lips brushed against hers. “Oh,” she gasped when he straightened up, and gazed steadily into her eyes.

“And now?” James asked her in a low voice.

“It’s not fair teasing a sick, old woman, James,” Olivia told him, not believing for one moment that slightest touch of his lips meant what she so very much wanted it to mean.

“I’m not teasing,” he said, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “And when you’re feeling better I will show you just how much I am not teasing you.” His thumb brushed over her lips. “But until then, I am going stay here and play nursemaid until you feel better.”

Olivia smiled at him, then covered her mouth with her hand, as she kicked at the blankets, grateful when James quickly stood and got out of her way as she made a mad dash into the bathroom.

“Oh god…” she groaned, as the tea and crackers came back up. Though still disgusting, she had to admit it was better than the bile of the last few times. She took the glass of water James silently held out to her when she was finished, and rinsed her mouth.

When she got to her feet, she gave him a grateful smile. “I need to brush my teeth, and then I think I would like to go back to bed, and try to sleep some more.”

James nodded. “I’ll go make myself comfortable in your living room and let you rest, and if you need me, I’ll be close by.”

“I have a better idea,” she told him, with a small smile.

**~007~007~**

Olivia nestled back against the firm body behind her.

“Thank you for taking care of me, James,” Olivia whispered.

“I will always take care of you, Olivia,” James whispered back, as he gently rested his hand on her stomach. 

The heat of his touch soothed her, and she quickly fell asleep, dreaming about James teasing her in some very delightful ways.


End file.
